I

Would you believe it if I told you that, at the age of twenty-four, I was still a virgin? Perhaps at some point, I had subconsciously decided that nobody would ever want to fuck me. Now I’ve decided this ought not to be the case; I was wasting time not being put to good use. If I wanted to become Anastasia, I’d have to start somewhere, right? Surely, there were too many horny men out there in need of sexual release, at least some of whom would be more than willing to have their way with me.

I opted for the dating app approach. I downloaded an app for gay men, set up an account with a few suggestive pictures of my body (mostly my butt in tight briefs), and went on to check a few of the profiles. I filtered through the “top” category and, boy, were there some very hot men on here.

I navigated back to my account page to complete my profile. In the role section, I typed “bottom”. For age, I lied and typed twenty-one. Height 5’6. Weight 142 lbs. When prompted to say something about myself, I giggled and typed: a slut looking forward to losing her virginity. That’s all anyone needed to know for now.

Five minutes later, my phone, which I had set aside, beeped once. I’d barely had the chance to reach out when it beeped again. I grabbed it hastily and, with a sweaty finger, pulled down the notifications menu.

II

A message from one discreetTop92:

"Hey slut, want to suck on this?"

He had attached an image of a hard dick which I estimated to be at least more than nine inches, thick and meaty. Talk about beginner’s luck! He had obviously been jerking off when he snapped that cock-selfie because the girthy tip glistened with precum. Staring at his beautiful balls and engorged dick rising from between very burly thighs had me drooling; my inner slut was beyond thirsty. What would Anastasia say?

Me (analStasia): "Yes sir, I want it deep down my throat, I beg you!"

To which he replied:

“You better be begging, bitch! I’m gonna shove it deep inside that sweet boipussy of yours, fucking whore! You seriously a virgin?”

I giggled and wrote:

“Yes sir, I am. I’m scared it’d hurt.”

I stared at the three dots which meant he was typing.

discreetTop92: Haha, it might at first. But after I’m done with you, you’ll be able to shove a can of soup up that pussy of yours and not feel a thing.

analStasia: Ouch!

discreetTop92: So when can I breed that pussy baby? (Peach emoji)

analStasia: I don’t know. I’m not sure. What if you’re a serial killer or something? (Sweat smile emoji)

Clearly, I’d watched way too many crime documentaries. Always better safe than sorry (or dead), though, not that my asking him provided any reassurance.

discreetTop92: only thing imma be murdering is your pussy (eggplant emoji) - I’m Ryan btw

Wait, what? Ryan? discreettop92? Ninety-two? Ryan, my used-to-be best friend was born in 1992. Could it be? What if this was him?

That’s ridiculous, it can’t be!

I hastily navigated to his profile page. This Ryan was 6’3. So was real Ryan! It simply couldn’t be a coincidence. I mean how many guys named Ryan stood at 6’3, were born in 1992, and lived in the area?

For a couple of minutes, I saw nothing but a total and complete blur.

My phone beeped again.

discreetTop92: Where’d you go? Don’t you wanna be my sex slut?

He had no idea how much I really did. Even so, I wondered if this could totally ruin what has remained of our dying friendship. I couldn’t bear having Ryan hate me, forever.

But it’s Ryan, imagine 6’3 Ryan—apparently the same Ryan with the nine-inch cock—taking my virginity and making me his bitch. Anastasia certainly wouldn’t have any qualms about fucking her friends, provided she had any, so why should I?

analStasia: I do, sir. But-

discreetTop92: ??

analStasia: What do you do for a living?

discreetTop92: does it matter? I studied computer science. You?

It is him! What was I to say next? The truth maybe?

analStasia: I’m an artist, a graphic designer to be specific

The three typing dots again. Was he starting to put two and two together? He hadn’t enough information to make the connection, but it could’ve been enough for him to be suspicious. I guess.

discreetTop92: My friend is a graphic designer, he’s currently designing the logo for my new startup. He’s gay too, and his body matches the description of yours from your profile (wink emoji)

III

So he did know! Maybe he knew all along and wanted to mess with me. I suddenly felt furious at him. He was the one who had been freezing me out of his life, and now he had the audacity to actually try and lead me on to become his I don’t know… bitch! Had our friendship ever meant anything to him?

Then a sordid and equally exhilarating image floated before my eyes. A naked Ryan grinding his hips against my ass. He looked magnificent on top of me, and I looked so tiny beneath him. He was drilling my ass and pressing my head facedown against a pillow.

I shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of that intrusive thought. It refused to go away until my phone went buzzing again. The message was from Ryan. Ryan IRL, not Ryan the discreet top.

“Hey (wink emoji), how are you? How’s it going with the logo?”

What I wanted to say was “You could’ve asked me that as your alter ego, Mister Discreet Top. I know it’s you.”

But of course, I didn’t say that.

Instead, I replied that I had a few ideas lined up for him, and asked whether I should send them via e-mail. He said that he’d love to discuss them face-to-face if that was possible.

I hadn’t seen him in a year, and now he suddenly wanted us to hold a meeting over a logo. Well, it was reasonable, I guess. But was it really about the logo, or was it about something more?

Again, I dismissed the thought and texted him that we could meet at a café we frequented together back in the day. He agreed with yet another green heart emoji. What’s up with that?

IV

Java was a nice little café that screamed vintage. Inside, the cozy ambiance relied on stereotypical motifs, nothing extra special, but I loved it all the same. I looked around to see if Ryan was there, but I realized I’d arrived early. I ordered myself a decaf coffee then decided to read until Ryan showed up.

I’d hardly managed to read the first few lines when I became aware of someone standing by my table. I looked up and saw a beautiful woman in an elegant belted shirt dress and strappy block heels. For a brief moment, I thought she belonged on the runway and certainly not here. But then I had to wonder why she was staring at me.

“Adam? Are you Adam?” the staring woman said.

“Yes, and who are you?” I asked sheepishly.

“Hi. I’m Veronica, Ryan’s girlfriend… um, and executive assistant,” she said with a rather mechanical smile on her face. “Unfortunately, Ryan couldn’t be here today. He has asked me to meet with you instead.”

I stared at her for what seemed like forever. Like what the fuck? He was the one who had insisted on meeting face-to-face and discussing his stupid logo. And then what? He bails and sends his stupid perfect girlfriend on his behalf? And a girlfriend? Really? What were you thinking hunting for guys online then?

“He could’ve texted me and I would’ve e-mailed the designs, you know. This is just a waste of time.” I sounded really mean.

“Um… You’re right I guess, but Ryan thought it best that I show up and look over the designs. He had to meet with potential investors. I’m sorry.”

Sigh. I was clearly taking my anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Allow me to order you a coffee?”

Veronica gave me a genuine smile this time.

“Sure, thank you.”

V

Ryan’s girlfriend actually turned out to be a very nice person. She loved my designs, said I was really talented, and picked one logo as her favorite. And it just happened to be my favorite one too.

That day, when my “meeting” with Veronica was over, I bought myself a brownie to go and walked back to my apartment. I waited for a message or a call from Ryan explaining what had really happened in his own words, perhaps even an offhand apology.

Nothing. No messages from Ryan IRL. None from Ryan the discreet top either.

I ate my brownie and convinced myself that it’s just business from now on. Well, unpaid business because I refused to get paid for it. But still, I’ll never have to see or hear from him again after that.

Fuck Ryan! Now was the perfect time to put him out of my mind and awaken slumbering Anastasia.